Fratello Perso
by Fanfic Lover 4evr
Summary: [Lost Brother] Getting lost was the easy part. Being found will prove to be a little more difficult. Dean becomes desperate to find his younger brother before he's lost forever in maze of hell. You'd be surprised where Demons hide.
1. Trespassing

**Disclaimer**: Believe me, if I owned this I wouldn't be writing this _here_.

**Summary**: Getting lost was the easy part. Being found will prove to be a little more difficult. There's nothing better than breaking a man by working him to death. And older brother becomes desperate to find his younger brother before he's lost forever.

**Author Shpill**: I know I have a lot on my plate right now, but I couldn't resist the temptation... or the new idea. Inspiration is fleeting sometimes and hits when you least expect it, so I've learned to roll with the punches and take it when it comes a knocking. So don't go pulling out your guns yet folks I'm still here and I plan on finishing _all _of my stories... it just takes time :)

**Note**: Hillbilly-bob's grammar is horrible... cause he's a hillbilly of course. So just enjoy the horrible way he talks... let it grate on your nerves like it does Sam's... Oh yea and I don't have a BETA so the other bad grammar is my fault... my appologies to all ;)

Enjoy:

* * *

"You don't want to do this!" Sam Winchester screamed. The young man tried to ignore the gun that was shoved against his chin and focused on talking himself out of his current dilemma.

The man smiled sickeningly, showing off his yellow teeth. "An' why not?" the man asked, his hick accent being born anew.

"My brother will hunt you down and rip you to shreds," Sam warned with a hint of venom in his voice. If there was one thing he was sure about it was that his big brother would avenge his death even if it cost him his own.

The dirtied hick laughed and looked almost thoughtfully around the green foliage that surrounded them. They were surrounded by the thick undergrowth, and the plant life would do its job in concealing the two warring men.

"Really?" the man chuckled. "Cause' as far as I understand it, your in mah territory and it don't look like anyone is a comin' ta save ya from the _big bad wolf_," the man taunted, referring to himself as the wolf.

Sam swallowed hard, his arms were getting tired from their 'high-rise' position the man had ordered him to do ten minutes ago. He and Dean had been separated the night before after investigating the so called 'Wood Nymph' of the forest.

"Dis is private property," the man growled.

The young man nodded, taking in the features of the man in front of him. With a straggly old beard, a beer belly that Homer Simpson would envy, this man had clearly not taken a bath or even changed his clothes in quite a while.

"Are ya listenin' boy?" the man shouted and pushed the end of his shotgun harder against the soft skin of Sam's chin.

"Yeah," Sam croaked out. The sun was beating down on him, his shirt was sweat slicked and stuck to him like glue. "I'm sorry; I'll leave and never bother you again."

The man snorted and laughed. "I'm afraid that, that ship has sailed sonny. You been trampling through my part of the forest, now yer gonna have ta pay."

Sam's breath hitched, and he slammed his eyes shut waiting for the blow to come and end his life.

When moments of nothing passed by, the young man cracked open an eye to see the man studying him curiously. The gun was finally pulled down from its aggressive position and the man waved it to the right.

"Let's go," he ordered.

A sigh of relief went out over the sound of the birds cheerful chirping and Sam slowly brought his hands down to his side, mindful of the injury he received the night before.

"Nah uh boy, hands behind your back," the man controlled once more. "Now be a good little boy and get in front of me."

Sam did as he was told. Being unarmed _and_ injured was against him, and Hillbilly-bob now had all of the cards in his hands. He was curious as to what was going to happen, wonder helplessly if he was just being taken to a destination where he could be fed on by the animals.

Sam shivered despite the heat at that idea.

"What are you going to do with me?" he asked bravely. Almost effortlessly hiding his fear that he had been trained to do over the years of hunting paranormal beings.

The man chuckled wildly, his laugh scaring birds from their perches up in the trees and sending them up into the white cloud filled sky. "You'll see," the man guaranteed. He then pulled thick twine from the forests foliage and wrapped it around Sam's wrists.

"Let's get goin'."

Sweat dripped down the man's face and his exhaustion dug a little deeper into his bones. "Can we rest?" he pleaded, knowing that if was a fruitless plea.

The man's frowned. "Oh come on, it ain't that hot out ere'." He pushed Sam forward with the gun and followed closely behind him. "Now what's a moron like you doin' out ere anyway?"

Sam licked his dry, cracked lips and shrugged. He wasn't sure what lie would cover up such a question. "I was camping with my brother and I… I got lost."

The man howled and his pudgy belly shook with laughter. "Amateur," he insulted.

Sam remained quite, not willing to bait the man into shooting him. His throat was dry, body overheating… hell, he didn't even sweat anymore. But his body was soon going to take notice to these problems and stop working.

"Where the hell are you taking me?"

"Don't get sassy with me boy or I'll put a buckshot in your leg," the man warned.

Before Sam could reply he tripped over something sticking out of the ground and fell forward with an 'oomph', as the oxygen was forced from his lungs. Water splashed at him and soaked through his jeans, cooling some of the ache he felt. His confusion lifted when he looked down to see he had fallen into a tiny stream that had etched out part of the ground.

"Get up ya clumsy fool."

Sam looked up and into the shotgun hole. Slowly he found the rest of his energy reserves and sluggishly moving to his feet. The action was dramatically slowed down by the limited movement he had in his hands, and Hillbilly-bob didn't seem to like how slow he was going and yanked him upwards by his brown mop.

"Don't mess wit' me boy, I'm not in da mood after findin' ya in mah forest."

Sam now knew that he was pushing Hillbilly-bob to his limit and that if he intended on getting out alive, he'd have to follow the man's rules. "I'm sorry."

Hillbilly-bob rolled his eyes at the lie. "Do you know where liars go boy? Have any idea? Don't lie to me now 'cause it'll be a mighty painful for ya if ya do. Got it?"

"Yeah," Sam heard him crystal clear.

"Yeah what?"

Sam cringed and thought of his father. "Yes _Sir_," he spat.

"Very good," the man decided. He let go of Sam's head and pointed forward. "Move it. Vernin will be expectin' me and he'll be very happy to see what I went an' caught."

_Vernin? Dean get your ass here now and help your little brother out of the web he's woven himself into. _"Who's Vernin?"

"You'll see," Hillbilly-bob spoke cryptically again.

* * *

They'd walked for what seemed like hours. Sam had fumbled with his lanky legs, his face greeting the dirt more than once. He'd been prodded and fondled with the nose of the shotgun more than once on this journey.

All of that had left his mind after the first few minutes. His mind was too encompassed with his older brother who didn't seem to want to show grace Sam and Hillbilly-bob with his presence. Sam had actually prayed, begged would be a better word for it… he wanted to be sitting on the hot leather upholstery of the slick 67' Chevy Impala classic listening to none other than the mullet rock of the 80's.

There didn't seem to be any hope, and now it seemed that the younger Winchester boy was left to rely solely upon himself. But with everything holy, he hoped that his big brother was alive and well and hopefully tearing up 'Sawtooth Forest' in search of his young brother.

"We're here," Hillbilly-bob informed him.

Hillbilly-bob's voice aggravated Sam to no end. His voice was grainy and sounded as if he'd either been smoking two packs of cigarettes a day since he was fourteen or had swallowed a cup of nails. Either way it was causing Sam to clench his teeth against the sound.

Brown eyes took in the sight and despair filled every fiber of Sam's body. He was staring at a rickety cabin, windows were broken out and the screen door had an intimidating slash across through the middle… while splotches of something Sam couldn't identify were splattered everywhere.

Sam's feet halted and he looked on with wide eyes.

"Come on."

But Sam couldn't, all he could do was stare. His mind caught up to him and he realized the splotches were dots of blood. _Something or Someone had been…_ Sam shivered and felt suddenly nauseas.

"Come _on_!" Hillbilly-bob barked at him. He reached up and curled his fat fingers through the young mans hair, quickly pulling it back and eliciting a cry of pain from his prey.

Hillbilly-bob was unsatisfied and growing irritated when the boy still wouldn't walk up the steps and into the cabin. "If you don't move I'll be makin' ya wish I had shot you out there."

Sam relented and moved begrudgingly up the steps. The cliché grew when the steps creaked eerily, and Sam was about ready for the Boogeyman to jump out and eat him.

Hillbilly-bob fisted his hand in Sam's dirtied sleeve and pushed open the door and dragging the young man with him. "Vernin, I'm back," he called into the darkness.

Sam glanced disgustedly around the smelly room. There was one beat-up old couch and an ugly wooden table that only had three legs.

There were footsteps and then a man, uglier than Hillbilly-bob walked into the room. Hillbilly-bob had nothing on this guy who was actually _taller_ than Sam, stood with a spit-slicked smile covering his face. His hair was long and dirty, just like Hillbilly-bob… with a ripped shirt that used to be white now covered in black soot.

"Whadda ya got there Bud?" the Vernin asked, curious, but pleased at the new plaything his friend had brought home.

Bud grinned and ran his eyes up and down Sam before turning back to Vernin. "This here is our new housekeeper."

A look of horror graced Sam's face before it was gone and his fearless mask was back.

"Good," Vernin approved. "We needed a new_ plaything._"

* * *

TBC... Reviews are nice... Tell me what you thought...


	2. The Rundown

Woo-Hoo! I'm back with chapter two.

**To The Reviewers:**

Midnight's Falling Star: The hillbilly's talking is _very _annoying I know ;) But on the upper hand, Sam hates it just as much as you do (and so do I). But it goes well with the whole rustic mountain thing... so I hope it doesn't bother you too much :). I love hurt Sam too... thanks for your review!

FireZombie: I'm glad you liked the first chapter! I hope you enjoy this one too, thanks for reviewing.

LynyrdSkynyrdRoadie: Hopefully this chappie will grab your attention as well.

Wolf-of-Insanity: Blushes, I'm glad you enjoy my writing style, and I hope you keep enjoying the story.

tvdinnersrule: Glad you liked it, thanks for the review.

friendly: Never fear, chapter two is here!

Thanks to all that read the first chapter, I hope you all enjoyed it and I hope you will continue to enjoy it.

**Authoress Notes**: Dean is actually in this chapter, yay!. Sam does get a little roughed up, so be aware of that, hillbilly's can be brutal. And yes, the hillbilly's grammar is still really horrible, and is going to remain so... so grit your teeth and read on!

But Enjoy Chapter Two:

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**Chapter Two

* * *

**

Sam's heart dropped sharply into his stomach as he stared wide eyed at the two hillbillies' from hell. He could feel his mouth part, his brain trying to let the rest of him know he needed oxygen to live.

"Let me get a good look at 'im," Vernin ordered. The man walked forward and looked with an amused eyebrow at their new _pet_. "He sure is skinny Bud."

Bud chuckled, little blots of spittle spraying from his mouth and landing on Sam. "Yeah I know, but he'll be fun anyhow."

It was then that Sam made his move. Bud had let his guard down along with his gun and he ran out the door, heading towards the darkening forest hands bound and all. He could barely hear the familiar voices yelling curses and orders as he made his way through the thick mass of green. And although his exhaustion was bearing down on him, he kept one foot in front of the other.

"Get back 'ere ya fool!"

"Yer gonna regret that boy!"

Sam breathed hard, his heart thundered and panic filled him as he realized the angry voices were getting closer. "Shit shit shit," he cursed when he realized he was going to be caught again.

The training that had been instilled in his head and he began to zigzag in hopes of throwing the psychopaths that wanted to use him as a plaything, off his trail.

"We're comin' for ya boy!" the voice rang out in the growing darkness.

The young man became desperate, he'd deftly underestimated these men's hunting skills and now it might cost him his life. He knew he was slowing down, his fatigue and blood loss from his little endeavor the night before being the cause.

"Oh god," he gasped out as he tumbled to the ground, clumsily tripping over a tree root and face planting. Soon enough, rustling from the leaves behind the young Winchester alerted the young man to the savages' arrival.

"There ya are ya little rascal," Vernin greeted as flipped Sam onto his back and stared down at him with a sickening smile covering his deranged face. "Where'd ya think you were goin'?"

Sam remained silent and stared up at the man who was now _also_ holding a shotgun in his overly fat hands.

Vernin frowned in displeasure. "I asked you a question boy."

Again Sam remained stoic and said nothing.

"Fine boy, you don't wanna talk then I'll make sure you _can't _talk." With that promise, Vernin reared back his left foot and abruptly kicked outwards, catching Sam in the jaw.

A scream tore loose from Sam's mouth and his head snapped back with the force. Sam _felt_ more than _heard_ the incredibly loud cracking of the bone on his face. Blood immediately began to pour into his mouth and clogged is throat so he couldn't breathe.

The young Winchester's vision darkened rapidly but cleared when something strong latched onto his arm and flipped him onto his belly.

Sam opened his mouth as far as possible and let his saliva and blood dribble onto the soiled ground. His moaning was constant; the pain emanating from his jaw overloaded his senses and made his stomach turn.

"That'll teach ya," Vernin spat down at him. "You think yer the first one to run away from us? Well you ain't!"

"Vernin?" Bud's voice called out. "Did ya find 'im?"

"I've got 'im," the other man informed his friend.

There was more rustling from behind Sam and Vernin. Bud popped into the open space and glared down at the flat down position Sam was in.

"I oughta kill ya now boy," Bud growled and kicked Sam in the side. He watched in satisfaction as Sam jerked from the impact and began coughing.

"What's wrong wid him?"

Vernin smiled knowingly. "He wouldn't tell me why he ran, so now he _can't _tell us why he ran."

Bud raised an eyebrow and turned Sam onto his side. He studied the boy's bloodied face and knew from the swelling on his lower jaw, that the bone was broken. "At least we won't have to hear him scream like a girl," he acknowledged.

Vernin chuckled at the approval, making his pudgy belly jiggle.

"Let's get back before it's to damn dark ta see anythin' out ere," Bud ordered and turned back into the green foliage.

Sam's consciousness was wavering, his head pounding so hard he couldn't hear the men's conversation. All he could care about at the moment anyway was pulling oxygen through his damaged jaw. Vernin's kick was accurate, amazingly Sam could still breathe and he knew Vernin had done that before.

"Come on kid, let's get a move on." Vernin grabbed Sam's collar and began dragging him across the rough terrain, completely ignorant to the rocks and twigs that gouged out some of the young man's supple skin.

"I don't enjoy chasin' after ya, so if you _ever _do that again, I'll be breaking your legs," Vernin warned Sam.

Time passed in what felt like hours for Sam, his jaw burned so badly that he wished for unconsciousness for a short reprieve from his pain. Blood still slithered down the side of his face and dripped onto his shirt. He couldn't open his mouth far, barely big enough for him to suck oxygen through his teeth.

He really wanted his big brother to jump out of the bushes, yell 'surprise', and blow his pal Vernin's brains through the back of his head. But it looked like the fates wanted Sam to suffer.

"Home sweet home," Sam heard Vernin chime in. The young man opened his eyes to look up at the rickety cabin he'd run away from and swallowed down his dread.

Sam thought, or better _hoped_ Vernin had the decency to pull him to his feet so he could walk up the steps, but to no avail. Vernin walked up the steps, dragging Sam up them with no second thought to hurting his 'pet' whatsoever.

Vernin dropped Sam's upper half onto the floor when he'd been dragged into the middle of the room. The older man tsked down at him. "Have ya learned yer lesson boy?"

Sam was in too much pain to move, his mind not comprehending what his captor had just asked him. Sam just coughed and let the blood that was pooled in his mouth to splatter out, covering more of his dirty shirt and jeans.

"That's disgustin'," Bud yelled as he regarded his prey with repulsion. He had enough pity to find his new house guest a towel that hadn't been washed in god knows when, dipped in cool water and kneeled down to press against the material against the boy's face. "If ya hadn't 'ave run than none-a-this woulda happened."

Sam sighed softly as the cool cloth helped sooth some of his jaw's ache. His muddled mind sent his eyes to stare around the room that was now alight with candles. Minutes passed and his mind refused to put a lucid thought to form, and the sharp pains were back.

He thanked god silently as his vision and thought ascended into the shadows, and his brother's name died on his lips as he sank into the dark reprieve.

* * *

Dean jerked into awareness with the strangest sound shooting into his ears and making is head pound fiercely.

Eyelids slid open to stare up at the bright sun overhead. Previous memories swarmed his throbbing head and had him sitting up rapidly. "Sam?" he called his brothers name, although slurring it horribly.

The older Winchester searched the area around him from his sitting position. He knew his limits, also knowing that his stomach would greatly protest to him moving at the moment. And he warily lifted his hand to touch the dried blood that clotted together the cut on his forehead.

"_Wood nymph?" Dean snorted in disgust. _

"_No…" Sam began. "Yudi's." _

_Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh," Dean snorted. "I'm sorry, _Yudi's."

"_Don't be an asshole."_

_Dean frowned in fake hurt. "Do you know how to get rid of one of those? Because I don't and it's not in dad's journal."_

"_I know," Sam conceded. _

_Dean raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that we 'wing-it'?"_

"_You got a better idea?"_

_Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Guess not._

"_I've heard that these things are like Sirens," Sam explained._

"_Great," Dean replied sarcastically. _

"_These things have taken out half a dozen people this year Dean."_

_Dean sighed in defeat. "Alrighty then. What's the plan?"_

"_Well, they dwell in caves, under trees, and in water…"_

"_How the hell are we gonna find them in this huge ass forest Sammy?"_

_Sam glared at his brother. "These people went missing in specific places. So I figured we'd start looking at a little ridge called, 'Percorso Del Diavolo, where the latest victim was found."_

"_Sounds like fun."_

Dean remembered his teasing from the start. Despite the elder's pain, he rolled onto his knees and stood up very slowly.

"Sammy?" he called out. He remembered telling his brother to run when the ugly ass Yudi decided to play a little game of 'cat and mouse', with the brothers. The Yudi managed to send them further apart from each other by mimicking their own voices to lure them in opposite directions.

The last thing Dean remembered was hearing Sam call for help and then being pushed face first into a tree. Now, his little brother was missing and his temper was rising to amazingly hefty heights.

"Sam can you hear me?" Dean yelled again. He staggered forward, entering the myriad of trees and listened with skilled ears incase he missed his brother's voice.

"Dammit Sam! Answer me!" He screamed.

Panic was rising in his chest as his search for his younger brother ended nowhere. If his father could see him now… Dean shook his head. There dad wasn't here, so there wouldn't be an angry glare and disappointment shining from his eyes.

"Where are you Sammy?" he whispered with a cracked voice.

* * *

TBC... Tell me what you thought!


	3. No Pain, No Gain

Hello all! Sorry about the wait... life is just pooh right now so you'll have to forgive me if some updates come on slowly... I'm trying the best I can...

To the reviewers: I'd leave you all lovely people a personal message, but I'm out of time and my next class is about to start so I have to run! But I love you all and you ROCK!!!

Enjoy:

* * *

A sharp pain soaring through Sam's lower face brought him back to reality. His eyelids felt thick and heavy as he pulled them back. His vision was blurry, and he realized that someone was holding onto his chin making excruciating pain spear through him.

He moaned softly and heard the unmistakable sound of someone laughing. His vision cleared slowly, now allowing him to see the face of Vernin looming over him.

"You awake sonny?"

Sam stared up at him stupidly.

"I don't think he's really here Vernin. But we need to fix his injuries before they get infected and he dies," Bud explained knowledgeably.

Sam then began to lethargically try and roll away, but hands were on him quickly, holding him down to a wooden surface he couldn't recognize through the murkiness of his mind.

"Stay still boy," Bud ordered. The hillbilly watched in annoyance as Sam's struggles became more frantic at the sounds of their voices. He turned to his friend and sighed, "Maybe we'll need to give him something."

"Let me tie 'im down so he doesn't wiggle around so much." Vernin easily latched onto Sam's flailing arm and had it tied down to the arm of the table he was lying on top of. Soon all limbs were each bound to a different table leg.

"Get the moonshine Vernin."

Vernin rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "Moonshine?"

Bud shrugged his shoulders and nodded slightly. "Got a better idea moron? If ya hadn't a kicked the kid in the face, than we wouldn't need to be fixin' it now would we?"

Vernin gritted his teeth at his angry friend. "If ya hadn't a stuck the damn gun down than I wouldn't 'ave had to run after 'im in the first place!"

"Just get the moonshine Vernin," Bud ordered and turned back to his patient who still fought feebly. "He's got a fever too."

"Great," Vernin growled. "Maybe we should just lay 'im off now…"

Bud raised an eyebrow. "You really wanna do that?"

"Dean…" Sam moaned almost inaudibly. His brown eyes searched the room, looking for his older brother as his confusion set in. He couldn't remember where he was, why his body ached, or who these men were.

"Who's Dean?" Vernin asked Bud.

His friend looked at him as if he was the stupidest thing to grace planet earth, and then spoke to him as if he was talking to a particularly stupid child. "How in the hells-bells would I know that you moron?"

Vernin ignored Bud's insult and walked his jar of moonshine over to the two. "He's not even worth this moonshine. Ya know that right?"

Bud ripped the bottle from his friend's dirty hands and moved over to Sam's head. "Come and hold 'is head up and I'll pour it down. This stuff 'l have 'im feelin' good in no time."

Vernin followed the orders and moved to the head of the table where he fisted Sam's brown hair in his fist and lifted his head. He placed his other hand around the back of his neck for extra stability.

Bud unscrewed the lid quickly and took Sam's face by the chin, causing the young man to buck backwards from the abrupt pain. "Hold 'im Vernin!"

"I got him, just pour it down."

Bud knew this was going to be incredibly painful for the boy seeing as his jaw would barely open from the way his jaw was out of its socket. "Huh…" Bud started. "His jaw isn't broken Vernin, it's just dislocated… we can pop it right back in a minute."

Sam head was angled upwards, and Bud took one fat finger and set it on the inside of the young man's teeth, pulling his jaw open slowly.

Sam jerked on the table and began writhing around, gurgling blood-bubbles painfully only for Vernin to take his fat hand out of his hair and wrap a strong arm around his upper chest. The young man was too weak to fight against the arm that held his upper half still.

"Quickly pour it in Bud; he's flailin' like a damn fish!" Vernin growled and squeezed the back of Sam's neck to get his head to be still.

Bud tilted the glass, letting the liquid pour fully into Sam's mouth. The boy coughed and had drops of the strong scented liquid flying onto Bud's clothes.

"Come one boy, drink it. You'll feel tons better," Bud ordered.

But the order went to no avail when Sam spit the disgusting liquid from his mouth and coughed to help ease the burning in his throat.

"Bud, ya gotta cover 'is mouth or he's gonna keep spittin' it out."

Bud went in for a second try, quickly pouring a mouth full of moonshine into the boy's mouth and then slapping his palm over the boy's lips. "Just drink it or you'll be drownin' in it," Bud ordered the glazed eyed boy.

Sam's mouth was beyond burning from the moonshine and had no other choice than to let it slide down and smolder his throat.

"That's a boy," Bud accepted.

"Do ya think that's enough?" Vernin asked. This boy was beginning to become more of a hassle. He'd be making this kid's life hell, and the best part was, no one was coming to save him.

"It don't matter because it's all I'm givin' him. Alright Vernin hold 'im down so I can pop his jaw back in," Bud instructed.

"His face is pretty swollen; this is gonna hurt like a bitch…"

"If we don't do it now, then we'll be usin' more of the moonshine on him in the mornin'."

Sam seemed to slip from consciousness then. The small amount of alcohol in his system seemed to lull him into the darkness. His brother always _did _tell him he couldn't hold his liquor.

"He's out cold."

"Good," Bud said as he grabbed either side of Sam's face and set his palms directly under the back half of his jaw. "On three Vernin, I need you to hold his 'ead as still as possible."

Vernin removed his arm from Sam's upper half and brought both hands back to his head. "Ready."

"One… two… _three!_"

_Crack!_

Sam's body shuddered and a moan left his lips unconsciously as his jaw was moved back into its socket, and blood began to once again trickle from his mouth.

"Untie him or he's gonna choke on his own blood," Bud ordered and set about taking Sam's head into his hands and turning it sideways so the blood could dribble all the way out. The young Winchester was turned onto his side where his body sagged limply.

"He's going to be cleanin' that up in the mornin'," Vernin hissed disgustedly, watching the bloody drool plop down onto the floor.

Bud laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "He'll be cleanin' up more than that tomorrow," Bud affirmed.

Vernin sighed and took a dirty towel from Bud's hands and laid Sam on his side, using the towel to prop under the young mans face to absorb the blood steadily dripping from his mouth. "Help me get him on the couch."

The pudgy man rubbed his chin and went down to grab Sam by the legs while Vernin hoisted him up by the arms, ungracefully holding the towel against Sam's bleeding face.

"The moonshine isn't gonna keep him out all night Vern."

The taller man nodded, already coming to the same conclusion. "We'll just have to bring out the tranq."

Bud narrowed his eyes for a moment but then glanced over to Sam almost thoughtfully. "That will keep him out 'till the mornin'."

Vernin chuckled sadistically and ran a dirtied hand through Sam's brown mop of hair. "He better be worth it. He might just be my favorite pet already."

"And here I thought you wanted ta kill 'im just a few minutes ago."

Vernin shrugged and watched as Bud left to retrieve a tranquilizer. Seconds later the pudgy man entered with a vile and a dirtied needle.

Bud filled the needle quickly and abruptly stabbed Sam deeply in the thigh with the dulling needle. A smile graced the man's face as he watched Sam jerk to the sudden pain and moan.

"Oh, this ones definitely a screamer."

* * *

Dean's tired body slowly slumped to the ground. He'd been searching for his brother for hours, and his energy reserves were spent, causing his body to forge mutiny against his cause.

"Just a quick rest," Dean muttered to himself as he pulled himself back to rest against the trunk of a tree that allowed him to look up into the darkening sky.

Many scenarios ran through his worried mind concerning his younger brother. After all, Dean had searched for several miles around where he'd last seen his brother. Obviously he'd come up empty. He hadn't even located his Impala, making him wonder if he was just hallucinating everything, and he could possibly resting in a horrible hospital bed where his baby brother was safe and taking the roll of mother hen.

But he knew better, and could _feel_ that Sammy needed him. Needed his big brother to come and pull his ass out of whatever mess he'd managed to do.

All in the day of the lives of the Winchester clan.

Dean snorted at that thought. Of all the shitty luck in the world, the two brothers had to be separated by freaking _Wood Nymph_. Sure the damn things were tricky and had managed to turn a Stanford Class-A student away from his brother by using his voice against him… but they'd hunted worse things, and it was damn near humiliating to have happen regardless.

The older Winchester brother sighed softly, rubbed at his sweat forehead and pulled himself painstakingly to his feet. He teetered for a moment and leaned back into the tree to prevent himself from falling flat on his butt.

"Where the hell should I go now?" he mumbled miserably. Part of Dean wanted to bash his head against the tree… any tree, so he could get some rest he knew his body deserved. The other part just told him to walk and not stop until he found his brother.

Out of good nature, Dean listened to the second part of him. The part that would lead him back to his annoying brother that knew way too much about everything, and served to annoy him further.

_Just keep your mind off the pain Dean and you'll be just fine_. Dean could almost hear his father whisper the words into his ear. A renewed sense of hope soared through Dean, and he pushed his tired body forward, patting the gun tucked in his pants to make sure it was still there.

Dean shook his head to ease some of the daze that was cumulating there.

"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do!" Dean sang purposely off-key. "Two can be as bad as one; it's the loneliest number since the number one."

Dean let a half-smile grace his features as he heard birds squawk unpleasantly at him, then flew up from the trees and away from the squeaky voice, made dry by lack of water.

"I didn't think I sang _that _badly," he muttered while glaring up at the retreating birds.

As another wave of pain swept through him, Dean gritted against it and trudged forward. He sang every song that shot into his head, sometimes making up words if he couldn't remember the song completely. His technique served to help him keep alert in his quest to find his stray brother.

Oh how badly he wanted to rip Sam a new one for convincing him to wing-it even if this job came off harmless. Dean should have known better, they're the Winchester's, nothing is ever that simple. _Ever._ Luck was not on the Winchester's side this time.

Time passed slowly, but Dean refused to let his body stop, knowing in his heart and mind that if he did, Sam would meet an untimely end. The more emotional side of him realized with fear that one brother without the other would cause the one pertaining the heartbeat would fail, and it would all end.

Dean promised himself as well as his deceased mother that that would never happen. _Ever._

Protecting Sammy was never about obligation; it wasn't based upon guilt, and is sure as hell was not because of an order his had given him. He was a big brother… and protecting younger ones was what they were designed for.

_Years ago, a few days before Mary had given life to Sam, she'd taken Dean in her arms as she'd done many times and pulled him against the large bump of her protruding belly._

"_Dean, you're going to be a big brother soon!"_

_Dean smiled up at his mother and boasted his chest proudly. "I know!" he chirped happily, planting a kiss on her tummy._

"_I bet you're excited too. Are you going to play with him and protect him?"_

"_Uh-huh," Dean nodded quickly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the kushy bump. "Can you hear me baby brother? We're gonna have so much fun. And I promise I'll never ever let anything hurt you okay?"_

_Mary smiled as she felt the baby kick against her stomach making Dean jump. "He heard you baby," she confirmed as she laid a kiss upon Dean's head._

Dean wiped a stray tear from his cheek as he remembered that moment from so long ago. And to his utter horror he realized he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings.

"Shit!" he cursed. Stopping, he raised frustrated hands to the back of his head. His eyes took in the darkness that encompassed the trees around him and he admitted to himself that he would now and forever hate the color green and thanked god that it was dark.

With sudden clarity, Dean squinted at something through the disorderly trees.

It looked like a structure of some sort, with dim light spearing out of open windows. Could it possibly be a cabin?

Dean's heart leaped into his throat, and his battered body took off running into the distance. He didn't have to go far before the ugliest cabin he'd ever laid eyes on stood in front of him. The hunter in him doubted anyone would be there, but he'd go up to check just in case.

He was right up to the stairs when the most unsettling scream flittered through the thin wooden walls and straight into Dean's ears.

He knew that voice… he'd recognize it anywhere.

_Sam!

* * *

_

TBC... 


End file.
